


Like Real People Do

by LiviKate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, because of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6649462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviKate/pseuds/LiviKate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re going on a date. You and me, romantically,” Stiles said again, imagining the eyebrow magic currently working on Derek’s forehead.<br/>“Why would I want to do that?” Derek asked, gracing Stiles with a little inflection, something the man never took for granted. <br/>“Because secretly you’re just a pretty girl who wants a date to the ball.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Real People Do

**Author's Note:**

> Titled after the Hozier song because this wasn't basic enough.

“We’re going to go on a date,” Stiles claimed, fingers twitching nervous-excited against his phone. His pinky edged into his mouth and he gnawed on it as he listened to the silence on the other end of the line.

“What.”

“We’re going on a date. You and me, romantically,” Stiles said again, imagining the eyebrow magic currently working on Derek’s forehead.

“Why would I want to do that?” Derek asked, gracing Stiles with a little inflection, something the man never took for granted.

“Because secretly you’re just a pretty girl who wants a date to the ball.” The argument was logical and Stiles thought Derek’s silence sounded pretty agreeable. “And frankly, we like each other so much now, our banter is almost boring. We need to add a romantic element here, keep the relationship alive.”

“By going on a date,” Derek said drily, and Stiles grinned, helplessly in love with what he knew Derek’s face would be doing; his one-eyebrow, not-smiling skeptical face.

“Yup,” he said popping the ‘p” before sucking his pinky back into his mouth, suddenly more nervous than he had been in the six minutes it had taken him to push the call button on Derek’s contact page. “So how about Saturday? I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?” Saturday was three days away, giving Stiles enough time to let Lydia buy him a new outfit and go cologne shopping with Scott’s nose.

“This is ridiculous,” Derek finally said after a long moment of tense silence, and Stiles punched a fist into the air, his heart rushing with victory and excitement. He was so proud of himself for finally screwing up the courage to do this.

“Yeah, well, so are you,” he said. “So am I, comic relief, that’s my role in life.”

“Haha, very funny,” Derek said, dry as toast, and Stiles could hear his eyes rolling.

“I’m gonna take you somewhere fancy, so you have to look well-groomed.” Stiles knew he was asking for trouble with the dog joke, but he was elated, and he showed joy and appreciation through poorly timed jokes.

“Whatever, Stiles.” And the line went dead.

“It’s finally happening!” Stiles cheered to his empty room, too loud in the small space, leaping up from his chair to do a victory dance that Derek would never, ever see.

“Hey kid, keep it down up there,” his dad called from down the stairs. Stiles grinned, racing to the door, tripping down the stairs, eager to share his good news.

 

 

Saturday day found Stiles pink from the shower, skin scrubbed over multiple times to ensure freshness, teeth aggressively brushed and hair styled carefully. He had several shirts laid out on his bed, his nicest dark jeans pulled up but left open around his hips. He was trying to decide if matching his shirt to his boxers would be considered trying too hard, or seen as too presumptuous. He didn’t want Derek to think that’s all he was there for, but he wouldn’t say no if Derek made a move tonight.

 _‘On the first date,’_ Stiles thought with a grin. His cheeks had been sore since he asked, so excited that he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Even working his morning shift today at his summer job in the library hadn’t been enough to dull his excitement.

He’d texted Derek last night, too excited about the day to come to fall asleep at a decent hour. He’d said;

_Excited about our date tomorrow?!!??!?_

Perhaps it had been a little exuberant, but it was the night before the day he’d been waiting years for, he was allowed to be excited.

Derek had sent him back the words;

_You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes at you._

And Stiles had fallen asleep with a smile on his face.

He finally decided to go with the maroon shirt, leaving the boxer-matching navy shirt behind, not wanting to look too pale. He thought that maybe Derek liked that he was pale, but he didn’t want to push it. Allison had said the maroon brought out the gold in his eyes, something about color theory, or whatever.

What mattered was that he was pulling out all the stops.

Because he was going to woo the hell out of Derek Hale.

Trotting down the stairs as he fixed his tie, he passed a bemused looking sheriff in the family room.

“Looking good, son. Hot date?” He joked, laughing at himself or his son, it was hard to tell.

“I’ll have you know, I’m with him for his brains,” Stiles said primly, turning his nose up at his dad and his dad jokes.

“Well, go get him,” John said with a warm smile on his face. Stiles grinned back at him, grabbing the flowers from the fridge and a jacket from the arm of the chair. Nervousness set in as soon as the key turned in the ignition.

“I can do this,” he said to himself, rolling his shoulders, driving slowly, buying a little time for a much needed pep talk. “This is what you’ve been waiting for. For months. Years even. It’s fine, everything’s fine.” He looked at the lilies lying on the passenger seat, wondering if they were too much. Does a man buy another man flowers? Will Derek feel emasculated? Will Derek think he’s trying to make him the ‘girl’ in the relationship? Is this how couples decide who bottoms on important anniversaries?

Stiles shook his head. He was being ridiculous.

He thought back to their phone conversation, smile stealing back over his face as he remembered that ridiculous was exactly what Derek thought he was. But apparently, that still warranted a date. A chance at the very least. And Stiles was going to make the most of it.

A quarter mile out from the loft, just before the threshold of werewolf hearing on quiet days, marked with a pair of old tennis shoes Stiles had thrown over a telephone wire, Stiles finished his pep talk, telling himself that the evening had been perfectly planned, nothing would go wrong. He grinned himself silly the whole rest of the way, biting his lip to keep himself from mumbling any more nonsense to himself. If Derek was at all as nervous or excited as Stiles was, Stiles’ knew he’d be listening in. The human himself would love super hearing for the night, just to see if Derek’s heart would be thudding in his chest all night like his would be.

Pulling up to the loft, Stiles threw the Jeep in park, grabbed the lilies from the seat and speed-walked into the building. He took the elevator, using the time to double check his artfully tousled hair in the grimy reflection. His heart was beating a mile a minute, Derek was guaranteed to hear it already. Stiles’ aching cheeks blushed lightly with excited nerves. He thought about throwing open the door like he usually would, but decided against it. This would mark the start of their _first date._ Stiles knocked, lightly, though his hand was shaking, a death grip on the lilies and a smile on his face.

When Derek slid the door open, Stiles’ enthusiasm dimmed slightly.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” he burst out, before he could think better of it.

Derek seemed similarly shocked, looking down at himself, his pasta-stained t-shirt and sweat pants, and saying simply, “Obviously.”

“Oh. Okay,” Stiles said, trying to reboot, berating himself for being disappointed. He wasn’t in charge of what his not-boyfriend wears or feels confident in. Derek probably feels confident in anything. He’s _Derek._

“What’re you doing?” Derek asked, squinting at Stiles, as if he’d been napping. He must’ve been, standing all groggy in sweat pants, he even had pillow creases on his face. He must’ve over-napped. Stiles couldn’t imagine sleeping before a date, he’d be much too excited to go to sleep. Maybe Derek was anticipating a late night. Stiles could certainly get behind that. In every way.

“Here, these are for you,” Stiles said, realizing his hand was sweating around the flowers. He shoved them at Derek, who just looked down at them, leaving faint pollen marks on his shirt, not reaching to take them in the slightest. He looked up from the flowers to meet Stiles’ eye with one raised brow.

Stiles’ winced, taking back the lilies.

“Okay, so not a flowers kind of guy, that’s fine, I’ll remember that. I wasn’t sure about them myself, but they were my mom’s favorite so I thought, why not, you know?” God, he was babbling. Something please save him. But Derek just stood there, looking less and less groggy but more and more confused, which on Derek looked very similar to his annoyed face.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” he asked, and Stiles grimaced again, realizing Derek was right, they’d need to move this date out of the doorway eventually. He checked his watch.

“Right, okay, are you ready to go?” Stiles asked, doing quick math in his head, seeing how much time they had to spare in case Derek wanted to change or brush his teeth or anything. They had a couple more minutes.

“What are you talking about,” Derek asked shortly, and Stiles’ heart started to pound, in a much less wonderfully excited way.

He laughed nervously.

“Did you forget?” he asked, the not-flower hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Forget what” Derek asked, glaring unhappily at Stiles. Stiles, whose skin was starting to prickle with sweat, cheeks rushing hot and red with embarrassment.

“Our date?” Derek looked blankly at Stiles, not a shred of recognition in his eyes. “We had a date tonight,” Stiles tried again, gesturing nervously at his wrist. “It’s Saturday. At seven.”

“A date,” Derek said, eyebrows raising dubiously. Stiles swallowed hard, stomach beginning to churn with doubt.

“I asked you on a date,” he insisted, shifting on his feet. “I called you on Wednesday, I asked you out, you said yes, and now it’s the date.” He was starting to wonder if maybe he’d crashed the jeep on the way here, and was now having some horrible coma nightmare. Or maybe he’d been cursed with a spell. A spell that made you experience the most horrifyingly humiliating and heartbreaking thing you could think of. He swallowed again, feeling a little sick as his heart continued to bruise the walls of his chest.

“No, I didn’t,” Derek said finally, looking more confused than annoyed, which was a step in the right direction, Stiles thought.

“Didn’t what?” he asked, hand flexing nervously around the flower stems, hearing one snap.

“I didn’t say yes.”

Stiles stared at him dumbly, mouth open and smiling slightly, in that hopeless way you do when you don’t really understand something but hope it’s a joke.

“What do you mean?” he asked anyway.

“I didn’t say yes,” Derek affirmed, looking more confused than Stiles. “To the date. I told you you were ridiculous and hung up.”

Stiles closed his mouth abruptly, seeing as though, Derek had never really said the word “yes,” and though Stiles was all about consensual dates and dating practices, he’d just assumed that taking the liberty of reading in between the lines of Derek-speak was what he was expected to do. After all, that was kind of their dynamic.

“I texted you yesterday,” Stiles reminded him, sweating through his dress shirt and really wishing he hadn’t gone with the tie. It was making his throat feel really tight, his breath coming shorter and shorter with each inhale.

“I didn’t say yes then, either,” Derek said, beginning to look worried, eyes skipping from Stiles’ face down to his chest, as if he was listening to his heart.

‘ _Wonderful,’_ Stiles thought. _‘He can literally hear my heart break.’_

An ugly, embarrassed laugh kicked up out of Stiles’ chest, which was starting to feel unbearably tight. He dropped the flowers so he could be nervous and flail with both hands, one covering his mouth before running through his (perfectly, painfully styled) hair, the other one yanking on his tie, dying for a little more breathing room.

“Stiles, are you okay?” Derek asked, inflection and everything, looking genuinely worried, like he hadn’t just done the cruelest thing Stiles had ever experienced. Including the witches that tried to castrate him on that one solstice.

The werewolf reached out to touch him, and Stiles jerked back, not wanting hands on him, mortified enough.

“I’m fine, it’s fine,” Stiles said, shaking his head, body half turned away from Derek. He thought this might be the shortest date he’d ever go on. He didn’t even make it from the doorway. He’d have to text his helpers, call everything off. God, everyone would know. His eyes prickled hotly and he looked at the ceiling, tracking water damage, bartering with every god he knew not to add tears to the most humiliating day of his life.

“Stiles,” Derek said again, and Stiles realized he was still standing there, outside the door, breaking down right in front of the man. He steeled himself, turning to look at Derek with an apology on his lips. Seeing Derek’s confused and concerned look though, that apology dried up, and the last bit of pride Stiles still had wedged itself up into his mouth.

“You could’ve just said no, you know,” he spat out, loudly with a burst of anger. Derek startled slightly, eyes widening. “I mean, c’mon dude, you should’ve just said no. I told _my dad_ about this.” Tears were back to burning the backs of his eyes, already imagining the pitying looks he’d be getting for the rest of forever. “Was this fun for you?” he asked, imagining Derek dragging this out on purpose, seeing what Stiles, the idiot human, would come up with. “Well, fuck you,” he said angrily, voice not at all tight with tears. “You’re missing out on the best date that’s probably ever been planned. So deal with that.” As far as closing remarks, they could’ve been better, but Stiles’ face was burning with shame and humiliation as the blur of manly tears clouded his vision. He turned away, lilies left on the floor, and started storming out.

“Stiles, wait,” Derek called, but Stiles just kept walking, heading for the stairs.

“You could’ve just said no, Derek,” he said, not bothering to turn his head, speaking to the laces on his nice, newly-shined shoes.

“Stiles, wait!" he said again, more exasperated than before, and Stiles hunched his shoulders up around his ears when he heard Derek coming after him. He wiped his hands down his face, glad his cheeks were still dry, for the most part. 

"Stiles," Derek said, catching him with on hand wrapping around his bicep. "Hold on, don't go anywhere."

"Seriously?" Stiles shouted, "you can't even let me freak out in the relative privacy of my jeep? What, are you recording this? Are Jackson and Cora in there listening? Is this funny for you?"

"No, of course not, why would you think that?" Derek asked, looking slightly frantic, holding on tight to Stiles even as he tried to pull away. The Alpha was ruining a good storm. Stiles couldn't storm out if he was stuck here, and he really felt like he deserved to storm up a storm. 

"I didn't know," Derek said, and Stiles gave him an unforgiving look.

"I asked you out, I told you to dress nice and I texted you to remind you, I didn't give you a chance to not know."

"I thought it was a joke. You called yourself comic relief, made a dog joke and I hung up. Then you texted me at 2am, I thought you were just remembering your joke and laughing about it to yourself." At Stiles’ look, Derek raised a brow and said "You do that all the time." And Stiles did have to concede that point. 

"But why would you think it was a joke?" He asked, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "It took me years to ask you out, and you thought it was a joke?"

"I'm sorry, I am," Derek said, and he looked it. His aggressive brows were pulled up into a dramatic peak, looking truly sad and worried, one of his lips pulled between his teeth in a show of nerves the wolf almost never displayed. 

And just like that, the last shard of anger holding Stiles up crumbled away. 

"It's fine, I'm sorry, too," he said, shoulders slumping. "I shouldn't have gotten so excited, I should've known." Derek whined slightly, barely there in the back of his throat, and Stiles couldn't take the pity anymore. "I have to go. I had some help with the date, but I can tell them to go home now. If you'll excuse me," he said, pulling his arm from Derek's lax grip, eager to get away, to get somewhere where no werewolves can hear his panicked breathing and breaking heart. 

"Wait, but I want to go," Derek said, bounding in front of Stiles and blocking the door to the staircase. Stiles looked at him like he had absolutely lost his mind. 

"I'm not trying to guilt you into going on a date, Derek," he said exasperatedly, turning and heading towards the elevator instead. 

"You said it was the best date ever planned." Stile jammed his finger against the call button

"Yeah well it is. That doesn't mean you have to go on it to make me feel better. Literally the only thing that could've been worse than all of this would've been you going on the date and telling me at the end that it was all fake."

"It's not fake, Stiles, I want to go on the date with you!"

"Why are you being so mean?" Stiles asked hopelessly, slamming the elevator button repeatedly, as if that would really call it faster. "What did I ever do to you?" _'Other than love you,’_ the voice in Stiles’ head said, so unhelpfully that Stiles banged his head against the elevator door, trying to silence it and give the burn in his eyes a physical reason to be there. On the third bang, the doors open and Stiles stumbled inside, graceful as always. 

For some horrible reason, Derek followed, continuing to look sad and lost.

"I'm not trying to be mean, I want to go on the date."

"I don't want your pity date, Derek, please stop, this has been bad enough.” Stiles aggressively pushed the ground floor button, resolutely not looking at the wolf.

"Stiles, please," he said, grabbing both of Stiles shoulders and forcing eye contact. He looked so earnest. Like he was channeling Scott or something, there was nothing left guarding those perfect eyes. "Take me on the date. Give me another chance."

Stiles gave a slightly wet laugh, hanging his head to get away from those beautiful eyes. 

"Why would you want to go on a date with me?" He asked, all the eager, giddy confidence from before washed away by the bright light of reality. 

“Because when you first asked me, I was really happy. And then when I thought it was a joke, it really hurt.” Derek took his hands off him for the confession, seemingly embarrassing himself.

Stiles took a moment to process that, not making any decisions, not doing any reading between the lines, taking Derek’s words only for their literal content. He wasn’t going to do anymore speaking for the man, that’s how they ‘d gotten into this mess. But if Derek meant what he said, then he liked Stiles. Liked him maybe the same way Stiles liked (read: loved) him. And that he actually wanted this date.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked, not letting himself hope for anything. “Because this was supposed to be our first date. And I mean that as in the first of many. If this went well, then I’d be trying to match the splendor of this date for the rest of our lives. That’s what I’m in for,” Stiles confessed, head held high with a bravery he didn’t completely own.

When Derek looked up from the floor, he had that disgustingly sweet little smile on his face, the one that took Stiles’ breath away every time he saw it.

“I’d like that,” he said, quietly, so quiet the ding of the elevator almost drowned it out.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, a bubble of hope bursting behind his eyes, shaking his whole world. Or maybe that was the elevator doors grating open.

“Yeah,” Derek said.

“Well, then,” he said, clearing his throat self-consciously. “Prepare to be wooed, you ass.” Derek grinned wolfish and pleased.

“Is that anyway to refer to your date?” he asked, eyebrows teasing.

“You don’t get to talk about date etiquette, you broke my heart before we even left your building,” Stiles accused, leading the wolf out to the Jeep.

“I didn’t mean to,” Derek said, catching his hand, thumb caressing the back of it in a gentle apology. Stiles felt his soft skin, a quiet, intimate touch. He could get used to this.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, there’s going to have to be some serious audience participation from you on this date, because if this is going to be the best day of my life, _which it was supposed to be_ , then you have to make up for all the emotional trauma you just put me through.”

Derek had a constipated look on his face when Stiles opened the car door for him.

“Did you have a special venue planned for our first kiss?” Derek asked, voice quiet, taking a step in, not pinning Stiles to the car, but holding him there all the same with the wall of heat exuding from his body.

“Uh,” Stiles said, intelligently, thinking about Scott bitching about hanging all those tea lights from that tree in the preserve, while Isaac and Allison commended him on how romantic it would be. They were all on standby for the text that would tell them to start lighting and then clear out. They would have a picnic under the candlelight, as the sun set. Stiles had tried out four or five or fourteen lines in the mirror, trying to see which one would work best for their first kiss. “Um, yeah, I guess? I’ve thought about it.” He finished on a whisper.

“Well,” Derek said, voice deep and soft, leaning in close enough that their chests brushed together. His lips brushed gently against the moles on the other man’s cheek. “Then I guess we should wait until we get there.”

And then Derek was pulling away, pushing Stiles out of the way and sliding into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“Whaaa,” Stiles said, whipping around, mouth aghast and high flags of color on his cheeks. Derek grinned at him, an innocent look on his face as he reached to close the door. Stiles stepped forward into the way. “Oh no you don’t.”

“Get in the car, Stiles,” Derek said, rolling his eyes with a smile still on his face.

“No, no way, you don’t get to be suave and mysterious, you big, fat tease!” Stiles exclaimed, stepping flush with the car, one hand landing cautiously on Derek’s thigh. “You have done basically everything to derail this date before it even started, I will not stand for you being all charming and beautiful for the rest of it.”

Derek’s ears turned pink and he ducked his head at the compliment.

“Beautiful?” he denied demurely. “I’m a mess.” Looking down, he indicated the stained shirt and sweat pants he was wearing.

“You’re beautiful in anything,” Stiles said, eyes going soft. “It’s just who you are.”

“Oh my God,” Derek mumbled, embarrassed and uncomfortable. It’s like he’d never learned how to take a compliment. At least not one that couldn’t be dealt with by glaring and baring teeth. “Should I change?” he asked, awkward and unsure. Stiles, after all, looked amazing in a maroon button down and skinny black tie.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Stiles said, leaning his hips against Derek’s seat. He knew he should get in the car and start driving, but he liked feeling the heat of Derek’s thigh under his hand, liked leaning into his space, liked being able to look at him, look his fill.

“You said to look nice,” Derek said, picking at his shirt in a display of uncharacteristic nervousness. “You look nice.”

Stiles cheeks blushed as dark as his shirt, and he grabbed the back of his neck bashfully.

“Yeah, well, I though about taking you to a fancy restaurant, or whatever, but that didn’t seem very special. So this,” he said, gesturing at himself before tugging again at his tie around his throat, “this is just to impress _you_ , we don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

When Stiles finally met Derek’s eye again, cheeks flaming with embarrassment, he saw a softness and heat he’d never seen there before.

“Stiles, get in the car, right now. Drive to wherever our first kiss is supposed to be. Or I’m going to kiss you right now.”

“I’d be okay with that,” Stiles breathed, leaning even further into the car, tongue flicking out over his lips.

“You wont blame me for ruining more of your perfect day?” Derek asked softly, leaning in, consciously or not.

“No, I’ll never tell you not to kiss me,” he answered, trying to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t want Derek’s lips on him. They looked so soft.

“Tell me how our first kiss was supposed to happen,” Derek asked, his face mere inches from Stiles’. He watched his mouth form every word.

“Um,” Stiles stopped to lick his lips. “Picnic in the preserve,” Derek’s tongue traced the bottom curve of his lip, “we’d watch the sunset in that meadow you like, tea lights hanging from one of the big oak trees,” Derek dipped his head even closer, Stiles going cross-eyed. “I would’ve made a joke, something ridiculous, so you’d look at me with that one look you have,” Stiles voice was hushed as Derek’s hair tickled his forehead, their noses brushing slightly. “A-and I would’ve kissed you. If you’d’ve let me,” he whispered, the words barely out before Derek was pressing their lips together.

His mouth was just as soft and warm as Stiles had always imagined, and he felt like he was drowning in it. Wet lips sliding over each other, sucking gently, little flicks of tongues just introducing themselves. Derek’s hands came up to cup the back of Stiles’ head and neck, holding him there as he opened his mouth for the other man’s tongue. Stiles obliged, sliding in gently, a shaky exhale released into the scant space between them. Derek’s fingertips toyed with the hair at his nape, mirroring the playful, teasing slide of his tongue against Stiles’. The human’s hand clenched hard on his partner’s thigh as the wolf sunk his teeth into his lower lips, fat and swollen from kissing. Stiles moaned quietly, eyes staying closed for a couple seconds after Derek pulled away.

When his dark eyes blinked open, he saw Derek looking at him, ruddy cheeks and spit-slick lips parted beautifully.

“God,” Stiles whispered reverently, amazed that he actually got to have this.

“Yeah,” Derek said back, voice cracking as he slid a thumb over Stiles’ red mouth. Stiles pressed a clumsy kiss to the pad of it, before his face split into a grin. Derek smiled back, dropping his hand and shoving Stiles in the shoulder.

“Get in the car,” he demanded, laughing silently to himself when Stiles finally complied, loose limbed and still grinning. He tripped walking around the front of the Jeep, slamming a palm down on the hood to catch himself, head whipping around to see if Derek noticed. He had.

When he clambered into the drivers seat, his head still buzzing with the rush of the kiss and all the possibilities pounding a loud rhythm through his heart, his cheeks were back to being sore from grinning. This could still be a really amazing first date.

The first of many.


End file.
